


white blood

by nctaliaromanova



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Coma, Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hospital Equipment, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Sad Ending, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, life support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:13:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nctaliaromanova/pseuds/nctaliaromanova
Summary: "i'm ready to fall, so tired of it all,down deep in a hole, can't do it alone."— white blood; oh wonderin which Steve learns to let go of the one thing he'd been holding on for so long.





	white blood

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first actual fic :') inspired by oh wonder's track, white blood. bonus points to you if you listen to it while reading this.  
> lots of angst in this one! i teared up a couple of times working on this one, not gonna lie! let me know in the comments if you enjoyed it. thank you!

**_"I'm ready to go, can't do it alone.  
_** I'm ready to fall, so tired of it all,  
down deep in a hole, can't do it alone." 

———

The hospital ward was as devoid of beauty as he was of hope. The walls had been reduced to a dull cream, grey polystyrene squares lining the ceiling like a grid. The air held an undertone of bleach, and the atmosphere almost felt suffocating. Despite the large, floor-to-ceiling glass panels fixed on one side of the ward, there seemed to be almost no light entering the room. 

Steve ran his hands through his dishevelled hair for the umpteenth time that hour. The steady staccato beat of raindrops on the window broke him out of his stupor as he shifted himself to take a glance out of the window. Dense, grey clouds were sprawled across the sky, the first crack of lightning renting the air shortly after. 

The nurses politely suggested turning on the television for white noise; advertisements for medical services and products repeated on an unnerving loop. But he didn’t register any of it, didn’t even bother looking at the television screen as he looked vacantly at the bed beside him. Tuning the teleprompter’s voice out, all he could hear was the faint beeping of the heart monitor which was stationed just a few inches from where he sat. It was accompanied by a line dashing up and down the screen ever so slightly; a sign that maybe not all hope was lost. That maybe there was a life hanging in the balance of that steady beep. 

He broke his gaze from the bed to look at the piece of paper resting between his hands. 

_‘Traumatic Brain Injury_  
Grade 3 Concussion  
Lacerated Right Lung  
Broken Clavicle  
Severe Abdominal Laceration  
…’ 

The long list of medical terms seemed to stretch all the way to the bottom of the document. Closing his eyes and inhaling shakily, he folded the paper neatly and placed it back onto the coffee table. Steve couldn’t wrap his head around it; he was well aware that Natasha wasn’t indestructible, that she wasn’t invulnerable. But she was the Black Widow. Ordeals like this weren’t supposed to befall on Natasha, who walked away unscathed from countless gunshot wounds and dangerously high falls. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be back at the facility with the rest of the team, having their usual round of shawarma after every mission. 

Steve and Natasha have ended up in S.H.I.E.L.D medical far too often than the others liked; always the ones putting themselves in danger and not bothering to tend to their injuries until the situation became dire. He’d seen her in hospital beds, and likewise, she’d seen him in hospital beds; by now it was a common occurrence for them. They’d be at each others bedside, cracking a joke or smirking at each other after seeing their teammates’ concerned expressions. But this time, there weren’t any words exchanged. No ‘on your left’ from Steve or a coy smile from Natasha. 

A seemingly peaceful figure laid on the bed, her hands by her side and a thinning blanket pulled over her. Her stark red hair had been reduced to a dull russet colour, devoid of the fiery aura it had once possessed. Pale yellow tubes emerged from her wrists and underneath her paling hospital gown, most of them leading to an electronic machine sitting in a metal cart. As his eyes fell on the tube in her nose leading into her throat, he winced and closed his eyes, willing himself to forget everything that he had seen. Steve waited for Natasha to get up, grab her equipment and hop onto the Quinjet for another mission. Steve waited for her to punch him in the shoulder for some corny joke and smirk at him for it. Steve had been waiting for hours, days, but every time he would be met with Natasha’s pale, unmoving frame lying still on the bed.

He gently nudged the couch closer to the bed, lacing his shaky hands with Natasha’s, careful not to dislodge the pulse oximeter clipped to her finger. Her hands felt icy within his own, and they were a sickening shade of white, too pale for any regular being. He held on tighter, afraid of letting go, afraid of losing her. 

“The doctors and nurses keep telling me to talk to you, that maybe you’d be able to hear me.” He softened his gaze on her as his eyes landed on her bloodless cheeks, chapped lips and the hooded veil of death hanging over her lifeless form. 

“That talking would help, and that you’d wake up soon.” He continued, softly rubbing circles on her hand. “It’s been rough without you. The team is shattered, at a loss, and heartbroken, above all.” He tried to conjure up an image of Natasha, with life teeming in every fibre within her, but each flash got lost in a haze as the sight before him struck his mind.

He should’ve been the one. If only he had been the one assigned to secure that room. If only he had ran faster, then maybe he wouldn’t have to see his teammate lying in a ward, fighting for her life with almost no hope at the end. 

“We’ll give you all the time and space you need to make the final decision, Captain.” He remembered the doctor calmly explaining the situation to him as he leaned against a wall, head buried in his hands. Space. That word struck a chord in him. He thought about all the empty voids he’d never be able to fill, all the little things in life she’d miss out on, all the shared life experiences they’d never be able to relive. She was supposed to start an organisation for orphans in her name. She was supposed to lead the rest of the team. She was supposed to be on undercover missions with Steve. She was supposed to live her life. 

“They say you won’t wake up. A part of me wishes that they’d been lying, that maybe this was all a sick dream and that—” the image of her brain scan showing zero activity resurfaced in his mind, “that maybe you still have that ounce of life in you.” _Romanoff in Spirit._ That was what Natasha used to say to him whenever she was on the brink of death. 

Steve could only hope that Natasha meant what she said.

———

A month since the mission. A month since his world came crashing down. A month since their last conversation. The world sped past him in a flurry, with the rest of the team slowly falling back into their routines. 

He slumped into the worn seat beside her bed, leaving a bouquet of sword lilies in a vase on the side table. The reds, oranges and pinks were beautifully arranged together in a neat bunch, bearing a stark contrast to the dreary interior of the ward. He knew there was no point in flowers, Natasha wouldn’t be able to enjoy them like she used to, but they were her favourite. Strong like an ox and sharp like a razor was how Natasha used to describe them. How was it that in all this chaos, all this despondency, the bouquet of lilies still managed to bloom so effortlessly? 

He listened to the gentle whirring of the ventilator, watching as her chest rose and fell ever so slightly. By now, the doctors had placed an endotracheal tube in her mouth to supply oxygen. She appeared even smaller than she had looked two weeks ago, and it took everything in Steve to not break down at the sight of her. Each day, a new term for a medical condition Steve didn’t understand was added to her list. The words ‘organ failure’ and ‘brain activity’ had been thrown around more often than he could count. 

“Hey Natasha. Sorry for being late, I was picking up your usual lilies.” He ran his fingers through his hair and wove his fingers in between Natasha’s, feeling the familiar icy skin against his own. 

Steve wasn’t sure how long he had been talking to her, but as he watched the warm, orange rays hit the petals of the flowers, his eyes landed on the stack of papers lying forgotten on the table. God, he didn’t even want to think about picking up a pen and leaving his signature on them, not when he still had a sliver of hope. “I’m sorry, Nat. I can’t sign them. I—” he felt his chest tighten, as he exhaled silently, “I don’t know if I’m ready to let go.” He knew he was being selfish for keeping her here, for making her suffer through hell, for making her feel more pain than necessary, if she could even feel anything at all. As much as he didn’t want to return to her ward to be greeted by her haunting figure every day, he knew he had to wait it out in hopes of a miracle. 

For so long, he’d been the team’s only source of optimism and positivity. Even when the whole world was against him, he knew how to stand his ground and fight back. But he wasn’t sure if he could fight back this time. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up his giddy optimism for another few months.

As he was absentmindedly rubbing circles on her hand like he always did, he sensed a twitch on her face. He drew his attention to her, but even so, he was greeted by her eyelids closed shut, face still unmoving. He really needed sleep, he must’ve been hallucinating because any movement by her would’ve been considered nearly impossible. 

“Wakeup, Natasha. Just open your eyes. Even if it’s to rage at me for not getting to you in time, even if it’s to put all the blame on me for your current state, I’ll take all of it—“ he lowered his head, willing his tears to not spill forth and stain her bed, “so long as you come back to me.”

Just as he was about to continue, he felt a faint grip on his finger. Looking at where their hands rested on the bed, he saw Natasha weakly grabbing onto his finger. “Nat?” He rushed to position himself to face her and was met with the gentle flutter of her eyelids.  
“Natasha!” He raised his voice slightly, still in shock and disbelief of what he had witnessed.

Steve held on even tighter to her hand, as he gently reassured her and tried to coax her. “Hey, it’s Steve. You’re on a bed, and I’m sitting beside you. Everything’s going to be fine, okay?” He whispered as he gently stroked her palm, a wave of relief flooding him. Natasha was moving. And movement meant life, right? 

As Steve watched her eyelids struggle to open, he noticed that she had an agonizing frown etched onto her face, as if she was fighting to wake up. She looked as if she was buried under a hundred layers of agony, as Steve watched a few stray tears lace her lashes. “I- I’m so sorry, I’ll—” As his voice wavered, he hit the call button on the side of the bed, hoping that a nurse would be alerted to the situation. 

A nurse burst through the door, clutching a clipboard in one hand. 

“She’s waking up!” Steve looked at the nurse through tears, as more doctors streamed into the ward. Everything that followed happened in a flurry. One minute the doctors were removing and reattaching tubes to her, another minute they were frantically looking at and assessing the multiple monitors fixed above her bed. As he was being escorted outside the ward by a nurse, he rasped, “Just let me know if she’s okay, alright?” The nurse gave a curt nod and pat him on his shoulder.

“I’m sure she’ll be. The Black Widow has always been a fighter,” she gave a hopeful smile to him, before dismissing herself to join the rest of the personnel in the ward. 

He was exhausted. As he stared at his shaky hands, he thought about how he’d been taking fitful naps for the past month instead of getting actual sleep. 

“Friday, when was the last time I slept properly?” He sighed, waiting for a response from the AI. Tony had installed FRIDAY in the medical bay to facilitate the doctors in the patient recovery process. 

“The last time you had a proper rest at night was _thirty-two days and fifteen hours_ ago, Captain. I advise you to get some proper rest for your own health.”

How was he supposed to rest, knowing that Natasha was in a medically-induced coma? How was he supposed to rest, knowing that he was the one who caused it, that he was the one who’d been too slow in getting to her, too late in reaching her. For the eleventh time that day, he buried his head in his hands again, letting rivulets of tears stream down his cheeks. 

———

_He remembered Tony calling him to return back to the compound, to at least have a proper rest, to eat a proper meal, to take care of himself._

_“Tony, I can’t, I’m sorry. I caused all of this, I should be the one to suffer the consequences.”_

_“It was never your fault, Steve. Just- take care of yourself, alright? We know how much Natasha means to you, we really do. See you soon, Cap.”_

———

As Steve was caught up in a haze of his emotions and thoughts, a gentle, feminine voice emanated from his side. 

“Captain,” a nurse emerged from her ward, “she’s awake.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, before rushing into the ward and walking over to her bedside.

The endotracheal tube had been removed, leaving a cannula in its place. For the first time in a month, a pair of emerald eyes stared back at him, albeit partially covered by her hooded lids. Her cheeks had restored their colour, and her signature auburn hair was sprawled around her pillow, a few stray strands framing her face. 

“She’s stable now, but we’ll monitor her closely. It’s impressive, she’s at a 12 on the Glasgow Coma Scale. Most patients don’t make it past an 8 when they’ve just awoken. We ran some tests on her cells too, and we discovered that she’s been physically enhanced. It might suggest her high level of responsivity.” A doctor, dressed in a white coat, read off the readings on his clipboard.

“Thank you, Doc.”

“You should talk to her. She might be slightly confused, but it’s perfectly normal given her circumstances. If you need anything, hit the button on the side and we’ll dispatch a nurse.” With that, the nurses and doctors left the room, leaving Steve to be with Natasha.

“Natasha—” he breathed out, still struggling to comprehend that the Natasha he knew was awake in front of him, giving him a weak smile. 

_Her head was pounding, questions and thoughts swarming her mind. Had she been in an accident? Why did Steve look so different? Why did she have tubes and coloured wires sprouting from her body, all leading to an electronic machine stationed beside her? She looked down to find layers of bandages wrapped around almost every inch of skin, one tightly constricting around her abdomen._

“Are you okay?” Natasha moved her lips, struggling to form a sentence, but there was no sound. She frowned when she was met with silence.

Natasha’s first words after a month-long coma were to ask if Steve was alright. 

He couldn’t believe it, she could’ve asked about the reason she was in a coma or where she was, but she chose to ask about him. Natasha, always putting others before herself, even when she was close to dying, even as she was lying on her deathbed, she always cared for others more than she did with herself.

Steve nodded slightly, although he knew it was downright a flat-out lie. His eyes were bloodshot from all the days he’d spent silently breaking down and his voice had gone hoarse from the countless hours he’d spent absentmindedly talking to her. Natasha saw through his lie. He had always been a terrible liar.

“It’s me, Steve. We were on a mission but things went south. You’re in a hospital, but everything’s going to be taken care of, okay?” He held her hand reassuringly, and was relieved to finally feel the warmth steeping through her skin. 

_The mission._

_She entered a soundproof metal vault, taking note of her surroundings. She was on a mission to retrieve stolen intel, nothing out of the ordinary from Steve and Natasha’s usual side missions. She remembered there was the sound of metal scraping against concrete, and a metal cylinder thrown on the ground behind her._

_Everything that happened after that was a haze. The rivulets of blood streaming from her head down her skin, pools of blood forming on the ground from the wounds littered on her body, her mangled frame, and Steve._

“Can you hear me?” Steve questioned with bated breath, prompting Natasha to nod slightly in response, although she winced when she tilted her head down. 

“Shit, I’m sorry-” Steve brought his hand up to stroke through her hair and readjusted her pillow, making sure she was comfortable. 

He took a moment to sit back and look at her properly. His eyes picked up on the bruises that were fading, cuts that were slowly healing and the thick layers of bandage around her limbs and abdomen. It hurts him so much to see Natasha in this state, to see her so vulnerable, so lacklustre. He knew that Natasha never liked being helpless; she had always been her own woman, first, last and always. 

As the minutes passed, she was slowly becoming more conscious of her surroundings and gaining more mobility. Steve had been talking to her for the last hour, helping her catch up on events and updating her on how the team was coping. For the first time in a month, Steve finally heard a response to his words.

As Steve was on the topic of Tony’s relationship with Pepper, she suddenly stared straight into his eyes. She remained unmoving, her gaze solely trained on Steve, but he remained oblivious to her as he continued rambling about Tony. 

“So they moved into a new lodge by the lake and-” he was close to finishing his sentence, but another voice interrupted his words.

“Will you do it?” She rasped, eyes still looking vacantly at Steve.

“Do what?” 

She inhaled shakily, her chest still hurting with every breath she took.

_“Pull the plug.”_

No. Those words were the last thing Steve would have wanted to hear at that moment. Pulling the plug was not even an option for him, not when Natasha herself was laying right beside him, responding to him and just— being alive. 

“Don’t. You’re here, Natasha. It won’t ever have to be a choice for me to make anymore.

_I lost you once, I won’t lose you again._

Natasha thought about how long Steve must’ve stayed in the hospital with her. How many meals he must have skipped, how many missions he must have declined. All to be by her side and make sure she didn’t wake up alone. 

She couldn’t believe it, he could’ve left her side to resume his duties or stayed in the Avengers facility, but he chose to sleep on a small armchair beside her bed every night for a whole month. Steve, always putting others before himself, even when he was starving himself, even as his mental health declined as each day passed with little hope left to grasp, he always cared for others more than he did with himself.

As much as she wanted Steve to stay, she knew that she was not worth all of this. She could see how Steve was killing himself from the inside, every line of worry and anxiety etched onto his face, how he had become much thinner than when she’d last saw him. 

“Promise me you’ll do it. Things could go south again and—” Steve tightened his grip on her hand, interrupting her, “they won’t Natasha. I’ll stay with you till you get better, okay?” Natasha could only manage a weak smile. 

“You should go take care of yourself.” Natasha broke the silence after gazing at him. Steve could tell that Natasha wasn’t happy about how he had forgone his needs for her. 

“It’s okay, Nat. I’m used to it.”

“Go. Grab a meal, take a shower, rest. I’ll be fine.” Natasha whispered as she gave Steve a reassuring smile. As much as Steve wanted to take his first hot shower and grab his first hot meal in a long while, he couldn’t leave her alone again. He already left her alone on that mission a month ago, and Natasha was a testimony to the outcome. 

As silence enveloped the room, Steve spoke up after running through his thoughts. “I missed you so much, Natasha. I missed our friendly banter, I missed our movie nights in the facility, I missed your cooking,” Steve let out a strangled chuckle as he recalled how often Natasha had come close to burning the entire kitchen down.

“But I missed you the most.” He breathed out softly, stroking through her hair.

Steve watched as a smile slowly made its way onto her face. Natasha held onto his hand, rubbing circles on it just like how he had done for her. 

“I brought you your favourite lilies as well, they’re—” Steve reached over to retrieve a stalk from the bouquet, but whipped his head back to find that Natasha’s eyelids were slowly closing. Steve was staring at her dead in the eye but she couldn’t keep focus.

“Natasha!” Steve squeezed her hand, prompting her to blink rapidly.

“I-I’m okay. Just tired.” She brought her hand up to rub her eyes, but realised the multiple tubes inserted into the back of her hand and forearm were weighing her down. Steve helped her tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, before gently planting a kiss on her cheek.

“You should get some sleep. The doctors said it’d help with the recovery process.” He pulled the sheets up to her chin and propped her pillow up. 

“Thanks.” 

“I’ll make a call to Tony downstairs. If you need anything, let FRIDAY know and I’ll come right back up.” He gave her a soft smile, cupping her face with his hands.

“See you in a minute.” That was the last thing Steve heard before he turned his back and left the ward.

———

With his hands seated deep in the pockets of his hoodie, he made his way to the cafeteria on the ground floor to pick up a drink; apple juice, in particular. It was Natasha’s favourite, even though he didn’t know if she’d be allowed to drink it then. 

He fumbled around in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone. 

“Hey Tony.”

“Cap, any updates?” Steve could hear the sound of Morgan’s inaudible voice in the background, pestering her father like she always did. 

“Natasha’s awake. The doctors said she’s stable, although they’ll have to monitor her closely.” 

“I knew she was a fighter. That’s great, send the team’s regards to her! We’ll visit her as soon as we can, kinda busy over here, unfortunately. Bye!” Tony’s voice resonated from his phone, as he heard more laughs from Morgan and shouts from Pepper over the phone.

Before he returned, he made a trip to the restroom. Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, he couldn’t help but notice how much thinner he had become. His daily sparring practices with Natasha were replaced by a daily routine of keeping vigil beside her bed. As he ran his hands through his hair, he set both palms on the edges of the sink. The fact that Natasha was alive and responsive still came as a shock to him. Just a few days ago, the doctors had presented him with news that her condition was deteriorating, and that the chances of bringing her back were close to zero. 

———

Back in the ward, Natasha gazed upon the sword lilies in her favourite vase which Steve had brought to the room a few weeks ago. They were her favourite for a reason. Whenever a teammate was admitted to S.H.I.E.L.D’s medical bay, she’d make sure to bring a bouquet of sword lilies for them. Sword lilies represented strength and an unwavering spirit. Steve knew that she was the embodiment of a sword lily; never one to give up from a fight and always pushing herself to the limit. 

“Miss Romanoff, it appears that your blood pressure is dropping. Would you like me to inform someone about it?” FRIDAY’s feminine voice cut through the silence in the ward, jolting Natasha from her stupor. She could barely see the foot of her bed as her vision started to cloud, obstructing any form of sight. 

The gentle whirring of the machines around her started to fade, leaving static to ring in her ears. Even though she was lying on a bed, the feeling that she was about to fall and crumple in a heap on the ground overcame her. 

“Miss Romanoff-” She could barely discern FRIDAY’s voice. 

“I’m fine,” Natasha responded weakly, barely loud enough for the AI to register her words. She laid back down on her pillow and flitted her eyelids shut, hoping that this would pass. As she let herself go, darkness closed in on every inch and swept her under. 

———

Lightly nudging the door open with his feet, Steve entered quietly, knowing that Natasha was still sleeping. As he rounded the corner to face her bed, his face turned ashen. 

Natasha’s complexion had gone completely pale, almost matching the sheets she was laying on. Her lips were dangerously tinted blue, as beads of perspiration dotted her temples and down her neck. 

For a moment, Steve was at a loss. His eyes trailed up to the monitors above her bed, the readings on the electrocardiogram catching his attention immediately.

The number _‘37’_ was displayed in green, accompanied by a line trailing across the screen, barely making any movement. 

“Friday, get me a nurse, now!” Steve shouted over the loud, slowed beeping of the machine. 

“Will do, Cap.” 

Steve held both of her hands in his own, flinching as he sensed how impossibly cold her hands felt. He watched as the number on the monitor dropped with every passing second.

_37._

_36._

_35._

_34._

Just like before, nurses and doctors rushed into the room. The first time it happened, she was showing signs of improvement. Now, it seemed like she was on her deathbed, a hooded veil of death lingering above her again. 

“What’s going on?” Steve raised his voice, words laced with all kinds of emotions; anger, fear, frustration and sadness. He could briefly hear the words ‘bradycardia’ and ‘atropine’ being uttered by the medical staff. He watched on helplessly as nurses switched her intravenous bags, planted more needles into her arms and shoved the dreaded endotracheal tube back into her mouth. 

He was livid, above all. She had just woken up under an hour ago, why was she being ripped away from him so soon? Seething with anger, he walked up to one of the nurses, raising his voice more than he would’ve liked to.

“What happened to her? Why is she unconscious again?” His voice wavered slightly towards the end, hands trembling with fear and anger.

“Her condition unexpectedly deteriorated; there was a drop in her blood pressure but we were not notified of it. It appears that FRIDAY’s request to call a nurse in was dismissed.”

_Natasha._

Why did she have to be so independent? Why did she always choose to carry the burden? Why was she so fucking selfless? Steve knew that Natasha would have dismissed FRIDAY’s concerns, because that’s just how she was. Headstrong. Stubborn. Always refusing help, even when she was on the brink of death. 

“Captain, we need you to leave the ward until she’s stable again.” A nurse timidly requested, guiding Steve out of the room for the second time that day. 

He wanted nothing but to see a smile on her face again. It didn’t matter if she was genuinely smiling or smiling through her pain, he just needed her to give him a signal that she was alive. 

He rested his elbows on his knees, ducking his head and tugging at his hair, wishing that everything was just another horrible dream. That maybe Natasha was comfortably in the safety of the Avengers facility. That maybe she was waiting for Steve to come back from another mission, cooking their meals to busy herself. 

_That maybe somewhere out there, she was alive._

———

“She stopped breathing on her own, so she’s on a ventilator. I’m afraid her condition is worsening, we tried our best, Captain. If the situation does not improve, we suggest-” 

“Don’t. I know Natasha, she’ll pull through again just like she did the last time round.” Steve convinced himself that Natasha would wake up again. That Natasha would be able to breathe on her own again. That Natasha would come back to him again. 

The nurse could only manage a sad smile while shaking her head, leaving Steve with a motionless figure on the bed. 

As he collapsed back into the couch, he started talking again.

“Why did you leave so soon? Why did you leave, when you knew you had just come back, when you knew that I was about to walk in with your favourite drink, when you knew that the team would be coming to visit in a few days.” He trailed his fingers along her cheeks, more sunken in than before. 

_“See you in a minute.”_ Steve murmured to himself. How ironic that those five words were her last words to Steve before going back under again. How ironic that those words might be the last of Natasha’s voice he’d hear. 

“You’re being so strong, Natasha. Sometimes I wonder how you manage to be so strong all the time, so blunt and so headstrong in the face of adversity.” He gently spoke, prompting tears to well up again. 

“I know that a part of you is still trying to fight back, that’s how you’ve always been. I need you to fight one last time, please.” Steve was practically begging at Natasha’s bedside, longing to see her eyelids flutter open again. He needed a sign, any sign, that she was alive, and that she was going to be okay. 

———

As the hours crawled by, his gaze on Natasha never faltered. He couldn’t lose her again, not when they were so close to getting each other back, not when there were so many unspoken words between them. 

“I’m sorry. For everything I’ve done. I should be the one lying on this bed, not you, Nat. You don’t deserve any of this; you’re a stronger, much better teammate than I am. I’m so sorry—” He felt his throat close up on him, tears threatening to spill forth. The Captain rarely cried, but seeing Natasha, lying battered and helpless beside him, he knew time was running out.

It was more than crying. It was the kind of desolate sobbing that came from a person drained of all hope. His tears rained down and stained the sheets, as his gasping wails echoed throughout the ward. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that they were both out of time. 

“I wish we could’ve more time. No, I wish I made more time for you. I’m so sorry, for all the times I turned you away, for all the times I failed to acknowledge that you were hurting, for all the times I wasn’t able to be there for you.” His shoulders shook with each wave of emotion raking through his frame, emptiness slowly settling back into his heart again. 

———

“The scan revealed that she’s in a lot of pain, though she might not appear to be.” A nurse walked over to his side and spoke to him in a gentle tone, her words tinged with sadness and guilt. He tilted his head back to Natasha and tried to take in the sight before him. 

Her eyebrows were slightly etched into a frown, and her whole body had gone rigid and stiff. Watching the colour drain from her skin, hearing the heart monitor beep at an agonizingly slow rate, listening to each breath that Natasha was forced to take by the respirator, he knew better than to watch her suffer through hell. 

_“Will you do it?” She rasped, eyes still looking vacantly at Steve._

_“Do what?”_

_She inhaled shakily, her chest still hurting with every breath she took._

_“Pull the plug.”_

His thoughts trailed back to the conversation he had with Natasha just an hour ago. She knew. She knew that things would go south. He remembered how she’d stared into his eyes with so much pain laced in her voice, as if she was begging Steve to let her go. 

_The smile that you gave me, even when you felt like dying._

He listened as the respirator forced air harshly into her lungs. He could almost hear her fragile ribs rattle with the force of the air. He wanted nothing more than to see her devoid of any pain, without all these machines hooked up to keep her alive. 

“FRIDAY, can I call for a nurse?” 

“I’ve dispatched a nurse, Cap.” 

He couldn’t stand looking at Natasha in this state. He couldn’t live knowing that she was going through unimaginable pain. Knowing that she was trapped in her own body, trying to claw her way to the surface and escape the pain. Knowing that she was drowning in agony, that she was hurting. 

“Is there anything we can do to put her out of pain?”

“She’s already been given the maximum, non-fatal dose of morphine. Increasing it might be fatal, Cap.” 

His breathing hitched, as he drowned himself in his own tears. They were out of time. There was no other way.

Natasha never lost any battles. Even when she was against Thanos, a cosmic being, she never gave up. She knew it was gods and monsters and nothing she had ever trained for, but she did it. She did it because she believed that no matter your powers, no matter who you were, you could be a hero in your own way. And so she became one.

This was her last fight, and Steve knew she wouldn’t win it this time. 

“Captain, we’ll give you some space. You have ample time to make a decision in the best interest of Natasha and yourself.”

“Thank you.” Steve choked out, denial consuming him as he refused to look at Natasha’s withering frame.

“Every time I close my eyes, I try to picture your signature smile plastered onto your face, how your auburn hair sits just above your shoulders, neatly styled. I try to picture you smiling, I try to picture you punching my shoulder, snickering behind my back, and setting me up for dates.” He began, the last five words dripping with immense guilt, as he dreaded the silence ensuing between them once again.

“But now, all I see are the tubes and needles plunged into your harrowing frame, your chest forcibly rising and falling. All I see is a shell, a ghost, of who you once were, and it hurts me to look at you like that—”

He couldn’t stand looking at her suffering even more as each day crawled by agonizingly. Even though Steve couldn’t see it, he knew that she was hurting. God knows how much pain she was in, how desperately she wanted to drown and let go. 

“I’m sorry for being selfish. I’m sorry for keeping you here. It’s a hellish place, especially for you, I should’ve known. All the times you refused to be attended by doctors in the MedBay, all the times you wanted to patch yourself up without assistance, all the times you denied medical attention. The last place you’d want to be in is a hospital bed.”

_“I’m sorry, Natasha.”_

———

A nurse opened the door quietly, carrying a stack of papers in one hand. 

“If you’re ready, the papers—”

“I’ll sign them.”

The nurse looked at him pitifully, slowly handing Steve the papers on her outstretched hand. The stack of papers determined if he would get to see Natasha again for the next few months. If he’d ever get to hold her hand again, and tell her how sorry he was for everything. 

He picked up the pen and signed on the papers, tears falling onto the papers and mingling with the ink. This was it. 

With the pen trembling softly in his grasp, he signed it. Suddenly, his whole world stopped moving.

Smothering grief and silence settled in the ward, only the gentle whirring and beeping of the machines could be heard. “How long will she—” Steve choked on his words, keeping his head down, afraid to complete the sentence. 

“Some patients leave immediately, some are gone within a few hours or even days. We’ll try our best to keep her as comfortable as possible. The only thing she’ll be left with is the IV.”

As the nurse walked over to the machines next to the bed, she turned off the first monitor, the screen slowly fading to black. It was the dialysis machine.

A single tear emerged from the corner of her eye, streaming down her cheek until it fell onto her hospital gown. 

As the nurse hurriedly wiped it away, she reassured Steve, "don't worry, it's just a normal, involuntary response." 

Steve knew that deep down, Natasha was hurting and he couldn't do anything about it to ease her pain.

He ollapsed onto the side of Natasha’s bed, letting her head rest on his shoulders. It was a comforting gesture they shared after rough missions or bad days. He toyed with strands of hair, desperate to hold on to a part of her. Resting his palm on her chest, he could barely feel her heart pumping at all. As he shuddered with fear, he managed to whisper through strangled sobs, “You asked me if I would sign it. You asked me if I’d pull it. Hours before you knew you were going to leave me. Maybe you knew it all along. Maybe you didn’t want me to stay, maybe you didn’t want to put us through this any longer.”

Then, the next few were turned off; the machines responsible for artificial nutrition and hydration dimmed. 

As much as Steve was relieved to see the tubes and needles being removed, he knew that this meant the time he got to spend with her was getting slimmer. He kept on stroking her hand, reminiscing about all the moments they spent together.

Finally, the nurse removed the respirator, unlatching the endotracheal tube from her mouth. 

“She may appear to be choking after the ventilator is removed, but rest assured, she will not experience any more pain than she already has.” The nurse spoke solemnly, watching as Natasha struggled to breathe room air. 

Steve could almost hear her ribs rattling, as if she was desperately trying to take in air. Steve subconsciously held his breath; he was afraid. “Natasha, just breathe, it’s going to be fine.” He ran a comforting hand over her shoulders, doing anything he could to hopefully soothe the pain she was experiencing. Steve wondered how terrifying it must’ve been, to feel deprived of oxygen, to feel like you were trapped underwater with no hope of returning to the surface. 

After a few agonizingly long minutes, Natasha’s breathing improved slightly. Her breaths were shaky, but she managed to get a few decent ones. He watched as her chest rose and fell, unaided. 

‘We don’t know how long she has left, but we’ll leave you to stay in the room until she passes. Do let us know if you need any form of assistance, we’ll be here to help.” The nurse spoke curtly. 

“She might also experience Cheyne-Stokes Respiration, which means she might stop breathing for a period of time, then continue with a few desperate, borderline breaths, before she just… stops.” 

Steve felt his chest tighten, the thought of it making him tremble. 

_She could go anytime._

The nurse cleaned up a few more items, before leaving the room promptly, followed by a group of medical personnel.

———

Each time Natasha’s breathing stopped, Steve wondered if it would be her last. Death was slowly pulling her away from their embrace, and Steve wasn’t sure if he was prepared to let her go for the last time. 

Steve knew that Natasha would’ve fought with every fibre of strength in her, she would’ve fought against the darkness threatening to envelop her. Maybe she was still fighting, maybe she didn’t want to leave.

_Maybe she was holding on for Steve._

“You can- you can go now, love.” Steve whispered next to her, trying his best to suppress his sobs as best as he could. They were threatening to wrack through his bones and take over every living part of himself. 

“You’ve always been so strong, always been so brave. You can rest now, it’s okay.” He combed through her hair, cupping his hands around her pale face. “You don’t have to be strong for me anymore. You can let go.” Steve could barely hear his own voice over the sound of his muffled sobs and Natasha’s unsteady breaths. 

For a few seconds, she stopped breathing. 

Then, as she took in one last, final breath, Steve managed his last words to her.

_“I love you.”_

Her last exhale was noticeably softer than the others. Steve brought his hand up to her chest and felt nothing but a void. Seconds passed, as her chest remained deadly still. 

“You did so well, Natasha. I’m so proud of you.”

“You can rest now.” he planted one final kiss on her cheek, bringing her into a weak embrace. 

_She could rest now._

———

**_"Said you'd always be my white blood,_  
** circulate the right love,  
I need you right here with me,  
I need you right here with me." 

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is dedicated to all these lovely users on twitter, as well as anyone who requested a dt/is reading this!
> 
> dt: @mcuromanoff, @redhairedspy, @milliesromanoff, @felfaye_, @stvenatalia, @caroInatasha, @romvnogerstrvsh, @filmweird, @stevexnatasha, @natstcve, @formerrussianspy, @CAPWlDOWS, @BLACKWlDOWS, @lizziesnat, @bboaing, @tonyenedgame, @romanoffsspit and @lady0fheartssi.
> 
> special mention to: kim (@bboaing), kenna (@stevexnatasha) and iya (@natstcve) for helping me out! i love you all so much <3


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